Snow Day

You know the quiet sound of snow falling? When all the sounds are deadened into the hush of the snow? When you feel in your inner ear the sound of the snowflakes touching the ground or dancing with each other? Today was like that.

When I woke up and saw the snow, I felt very alive. The chilly air invigorated my mind, and though I climbed back into bed, I was awake (and pesty, but nevermind that bit). I knew it could be a creative day. So I sewed all morning. I am almost done with a dress for myself. Then I will begin a project for my sister-in-law. It was relaxing and beautiful to see the dress take shape under my hands. I haven't sewn for a while and it was thrilling to feel the skill come back. I didn't use my new machine, which is really my grandmothers 1950 Singer, Model 99 - such a beautiful machine!

Instead I used my more modern machine that is mostly plastic and shakes like it is going to fall apart sometimes, but it still worked well. (One of the most amazing things about my new old machine is the button holer. Wow, it is so easy to make a button hole now. I love it. I could rave for days about the beauty and simplicity of this amazing little contraption.)

I didn't finish the dress yet because I have gotten distracted by other things, like the internet and dishes, but I might be able to get the sleeves on before I go to bed. Tomorrow's classes are already canceled so maybe it will be another creative snow day.

When I woke up, I planned to write a poem about the snow, but all I could think of were the words of "The First Snowfall" by James Russell Lowell.

The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and highway
With a silence deep and white.

Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.